


The Law of the Street

by Lypreila



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Anders - Freeform, Dragon Age - Freeform, Fenris - Freeform, Gang, Gen, Hawke - Freeform, Kirkwall, Modern, Modern AU, What happens when I don't sleep, merrill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/pseuds/Lypreila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know what this is.  This is the type of thing that happens when I don't sleep.  What am I doing?  Oh, yeah.  Summary.<br/>****<br/>In a modern AU, The Hawke and her gang try to figure out what to do about Anders after he destroys the Chantry.  The Law of the street is hard, but it is the Law. Ha!  Been waiting to use that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Law of the Street

**Author's Note:**

> So..... yeah. I don't sleep much. And this is what happens when my Husband takes over the Xbox. Inspired by I don't know what. Kudos and Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated guys. You all rock! Oh yeah. I own nothing. All hail Bioware

Hawke has come to hate alleyways. This particular one was littered with garbage and filth, smelt of urine, and echoed the music blasting from the third story window of a tenement building down the way. Music that failed to cover the sounds of gunfire and fighting. She felt like crying. How had it come to this? She had only wanted to protect them, her family, the only one she’d ever had growing up on the streets of Kirkwall. Hunted by cops, attacked by rival gangs, sleeping in the cellar of an abandoned hospital. None of it had mattered, so long as they could protect each other. She looked up from where she crouched, eyes ghosting over the faces of her beloved companions, ignoring for the moment the man hunched on the ground between them, hands lashed roughly behind his back. 

There was Merrill, shaved head and tattoos, tears sliding relentlessly down her face while she looked up, trying in vain to stop them. She looked lost without Carver there, feeling his absence as keenly as Hawke herself. They had both insisted he go, that the army was best for him, but it still hurt. Beside her hunched Varric, face pained but calm, attempting to make up for his short stature with his garish clothing, leather, rivets and chains everywhere. He had unwavering confidence in Hawke and the gang. His eyes spoke eloquently of the absolute faith he had in them. Whatever Hakwe decided now, she knew he would only support her, and not judge, never judge. 

Aveline stood, leaning against the wall, her dreadlocks shading eyes that roamed restlessly, the former police recruit was always looking out for the danger that plagued them. Her eyes flicked to Hawke, pierced lips pulling into something resembling a grim smile. Sebastian knelt beside her, hands clasped in prayer. Was he praying for them? For himself? For the dead? She didn’t care. She couldn’t deny him what small comfort his faith could bring. Dog lay at his side, mournful eyes focused on Hawke. Her heart broke. If they had to run, and she was almost positive they had to, how would she care for him? The one who’d been her companion since she had rescued him from a beating at the hands of a cruel, deranged homeless man? His loyalty to her was outmatched only by the man to his left, completing the small circle that huddled in the stinking alley. 

Hawke’s violet gaze fell on Fenris, and she felt the rest of herself shatter. They had been so happy, these past months, the specter of the human traffickers that had been hunting him a distant memory. Finally free, he had come to her, brands marking him as unique as surely as his snow white mohawk. Everyone knew who he was now. Former sex slave, badass markings, would kill anyone that got within ten feet of The Hawke without his permission. He looked at her, olive eyes so full of broken possibilities. But he nodded, slowly, lips trying and failing to pull into some semblance of a smile. ‘I love you’ he mouthed to her. 

A tear dripped from her eye, landing on a pale cheek. Only one. That was all she could allow herself at the moment, when her eyes roamed over the spot where Isabella should be sitting. Loosing her to the 125th st. Qunari had been hard, but the law of the street was absolute. She had stolen from them, and Hawke had been powerless to do anything to save her at the time. The fact that Hawke had killed the Arishok later was cold comfort when her friend was no longer at her side. She carried her memory on her arm now, a white skull and crossbones on a black band inked into her skin. 

Finally her eyes settled on the man kneeling in the midst of their circle. Dressed in rags, eyes downcast, he had not fought them. A deep sigh fell from her, doing nothing to lessen the weight of responsibility bearing down. She had known that he was unstable. She had known, and despite Fenris’ reservations she had tried desperately to help him. She had never thought he would blow up the Chantry, the noble church that ruled Kirkwall with an iron fist, keeping the downtrodden down with ruthless efficiency. Even as she stared, a spatter of gunfire sounded close by, bringing to the fore of her mind the consequences of his actions. She had wanted change, yes! But not like this, never like this. He surprised her by speaking, voice steady and sure. 

“Something had to change. Surely you know that. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.” 

Fenris’ fist shot out, connecting solidly with his jaw. He lurched, but didn’t fall down. A moment later, after working his jawbone back and forth, he spoke again. 

“Kill me if you want. Go ahead. I don’t think you will. I did this for us, Hawke! For all of us! I know you can see that. Plus,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips, “You need me. I’m the only one of us that knows any first aid. You need me if only so there’s someone to patch you up the next time you get shot.”

Another long sigh left her as she roughly grabbed Anders and hauled him, stumbling, to his feet. The gang took this as the a signal to stand, Sebastian leaving off his prayers, Merrill’s eyes finally dry. Fenris hovered grimly, ready to destroy the man should he try anything. 

“So,” Hawke murmured, voice thick with unshed tears, “You think this was right? That I need you? I need this, we needed this?” 

Her voice rose with each syllable, and her free arm gestured expansively at the city disintegrating around them. Then it dropped, in a gesture familiar to all of them, to grab the hilt of the knife that lived on her hip. The one she had used to disembowel the Arishok. The one that had become a touchstone to her, a reminder of things done right and things done wrong. 

Anders turned to face her fully. 

“I do. You do. We did.” 

She saw nothing in his eyes but calm assurance. She moved forward, laying her arm around him in a gentle one armed hug. He seemed to relax. Then she felt him stiffen as she slid the blade up under his ribs, angled up to pierce his heart. When she moved away he was wearing the most incredulous look on his face, and she couldn’t hold back something that sounded between a laugh and a harsh sob. Then, silently, his eyes slid closed and he slumped to the ground dead. 

She felt Fenris’ arms slip around her, but other than that she was numb. The words, a supplication, a desperate plea or justification, she knew not which, falling from her of their own volition. 

“I had to. I had to. I had to.” 

They leave The City of Chains that night, in a stolen short bus, heading west.


End file.
